


Wine Mom

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-22 01:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: or the one where taem deals with his emotions with bad wine and worse jokesJonghyun reaches for it and snorts at what’s just a folded up piece of printer paper taped over the actual white wine label. It says “Feelings” in black sharpie and he turns to cock a brow at Taemin when he hears him coming back from the laundry room.“Feelings?” he asks.“Yeah,” Taemin says. “Because I bottle my feelings up, get it?”tw alcohol





	Wine Mom

**Two Weeks**  
The first time Jonghyun sets foot inside of Taemin’s house, it’s two weeks after they start dating and it’s to use his shower and washing machine. Who knew a cyclist almost running him over in the crosswalk and making him spill soda over himself was the trick to getting invited into his new boyfriend’s place.

“Sorry it’s like, _messy_ messy instead of that quirky, I-only-cleaned-up-a-little-bit-but-my-mess-is-still-cutely-endearing kind of messy,” Taemin tells him with a shameless shrug. Jonghyun laughs and Taemin takes his sticky shirt, then points him into the bathroom.

When he comes out of his quick shower, he helps himself to one of Taemin’s red plaid buttonups to wear until his shirt is done washing. Taemin meets him in the hallway and tells him to just chill in the living room for a minute while he throws a load and the shirt into the washing machine. Jonghyun obeys easily, wandering in and looking around. Taemin’s cleaned up a little bit more and it makes him grin; the hastily stacked papers on the coffee table, the clumsily arranged pillows on the couch against the wall. He bets Taemin is proud.

There are two tall coat hangers on either side of the couch, but with no coats on them. Instead, vines creep up around them and over a bar hung between them. It gives the impression of a little leafy arch over the couch. Jonghyun likes it.

On top of the little tv are cute grass pokémon plushies, and under it is an old PS2 with heavily taped controller wires. More little plants sit in the windowsill and there’s a bookshelf against the wall that’s more full of junk than actual books. On the opposite wall, on the mantle above a closed up fireplace, there are some pictures, some candles, and a few bottles of some fancy alcohol.

One bottle in particular catches Jonghyun’s attention and he laughs softly to himself as he walks over to it. That can’t say what he thinks it says--though as he draws closer, he has to admit that it does. He reaches for it and snorts at what’s just a folded up piece of printer paper taped over the actual white wine label. It says “Feelings” in black sharpie and Jonghyun turns to cock a brow at Taemin when he hears him coming back from the laundry room.

“Feelings?” he asks, grinning when Taemin stops, confused, for only a moment before understanding and starting forward again with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he says. “Because I bottle my feelings up, get it?” He wiggles his eyebrows; Jonghyun snorts, shaking his head. Wow, he thinks.

“Wow,” he says.

“Thanks,” Taemin grins, and reaches for the bottle. “Did you wanna watch a movie or something?” he asks as he puts it back up on the mantle. There’s an unsurety, a self-consciousness in his tone like he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to be doing. Jonghyun can understand. They fucked at a club two weeks ago and were on their third date since then when things went south. They’re not exactly close yet.

“Wanna watch Arrietty?” he asks, pulling a memory from a text conversation they had a few days ago. It’s a good movie and a shared interest, and it’ll last about the same time as the laundry will. Taemin brightens and nods quickly, tugging Jonghyun to his couch and grabbing his laptop from the coffee table.

 

**Four Months**  
Jonghyun bites his lip as he stands in front of Taemin’s front door, keys jingling in his hand. He shouldn’t be feeling this weird about this; Taemin literally gave him a spare key and said he could come in whenever, as long as he texted first. And Jonghyun did text him, over an hour ago, that he would be stopping by really quick before work to grab the jacket he forgot here last night. And a few minutes ago when the bus dropped him off down the street. He’s not being a surprise.

He still feels like he should knock, though. He doesn’t know if they’re in that stage of the relationship where he can just walk in uninvited. He guesses, though, that if Taemin says he can, then they are. This just seems awfully fast for him. He guesses this is what he gets when his last long term relationship was when he was sixteen. He worries his lip between his teeth for just a few seconds more before he decides, fuck it. He’s going in.

His first step into the house makes him feel like an intruder. He scrunches up his face, shakes his head, and steps fully inside.

“Tae?” he calls. He’s not even sure if Taemin is still here. He goes on snack runs to the convenience store on the corner a lot. Ugh. Whatever. He’ll just grab his jacket and go. He slips into the kitchen, finds it where he left it on the chair, grabs it, and starts heading back out again. As he walks, he sends Taemin a quick text to know that he was over.

He’s almost at the door when he hears the text message notification from Taemin’s phone.

It makes him jump; it always does because it’s the chorus from some shitty screamo song. This time, though, he’s extra scared because he has no idea where the fuck it came from. Almost immediately after it goes off he hears a soft hiss and then rustling, and then it cuts off suddenly. Jonghyun frowns and looks around the living room until he finds it: Taemin. In the corner, half-hidden by the curtains on one side and the boxes in front of the fireplace on the other, clutching his phone to his chest, blinking up at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes. Jonghyun stares at him.

“Um,” Jonghyun says. Taemin swallows.

“You weren’t supposed to see me,” he says. His voice is a rough whisper. Jonghyun blinks, curling his jacket closer to his chest.

“Um,” he says again. “Were you… hiding... from me?” he asks. Taemin sighs, shaking his head with a grimace. He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls his hood up.

“Just… hiding, in general,” he mumbles. This time Jonghyun catches the slight slur between his words. He frowns, concerned.

“Are you drunk?” he asks. Drunk at two in the afternoon on a Thursday. Taemin hesitates, then nods and lifts up a bottle of wine that Jonghyun recognizes from the mantle.

“I’m drinking my feelings away,” he mumbles. “Get it?” The tiniest smile pulls up his lips before it wobbles off. He scrunches his eyes shut, sniffles grossly, takes a drink straight from the bottle, and shudders out a shaky breath into his knees. Jonghyun takes a few steps towards him, pity in his heart.

“Hey, Tae…,” he says gently, “do you--”

“Look, Jonghyun, can you just,” Taemin cuts him off with a heavy breath. “Can you just leave me alone? And pretend you never saw this?” He wipes at his eyes with his sleeve before another tear can fall and Jonghyun bites his lip. He doesn’t really want to. “Please,” Taemin adds. “I need to be alone.” Even with the shake in his voice there’s a sureness in there that Jonghyun can pick up on. He sighs, but nods. If this is just a thing that Taemin does sometimes, and he knows what’s best for himself during these moments, then fine.

“Okay, um. I’ll text you later?” he offers, taking a step backwards. Taemin shrugs, nods.

“I’ll text you,” he mumbles. Jonghyun nods back. Alright then. He’ll let Taemin make first contact. “Have fun at work,” he adds when Jonghyun reaches the door. Jonghyun nods quietly and slips out.

 

**Ten Months**  
“Hey, babe--can you grab the dishes from the living room?” Taemin nods over Jonghyun’s shoulder when he’s trying to pass him to grab some crackers from the junk food basket. Jonghyun nods and diverts his course easily, back the way he came. On the coffee table, he finds a little bowl with chip crumbs, a plastic cup with dried orange juice drips inside, and a wine bottle. An empty wine bottle, he finds on closer inspection. He snorts at the little “feelings” label like usual and takes it with him to where Taemin is still doing the dishes.

“Here,” he mumbles, handing him the cup and the bowl. “You’ve run out of feelings,” he adds blandly. Taemin glances at him with a confused hum; when he sees the bottle, his face breaks into a sheepish smile.

“Oh, yeah,” he grins. “I had a bad day the other day. I’ll get more when I go shopping Saturday.” He shrugs and turns back to the sink. Jonghyun chuckles fondly and twists the bottle in his hand.

“I’ll get rid of this for you, then,” he says, wiggling it and heading towards the garbage can.

“Hey, what--” His progress is stopped by Taemin’s hand catching his shoulder. He turns at Taemin’s tug, blinking when Taemin snatches the bottle from him. “You can’t just _throw away_ my _feelings,_ ” he chides. “Rude. I thought you cared about me,” His pouty tone is betrayed completely by the little smirk on his lips as he holds the bottle under the faucet. Jonghyun snorts, leaning up on the counter opposite.

“Sorry, highness,” he says, ducking out of the way when Taemin playfully flicks water into his face. He should have known Taemin’s feelings were too delicate to throw in the garbage. Taemin fills the bottle a quarter full with water, swirls it around, and dumps it down the drain. Then he hands it back to Jonghyun.

“You have to _recycle_ them,” he says, pointing towards his little recycling box. “Protect the environment. So they’ll come back around to me. They’re always the same thing anyway.”

“Oh, of course,” Jonghyun says, nodding as he places the bottle into the recycling bin. “How could I have forgotten?” He ducks the second splash Taemin sends his way and grabs a towel to help him finish the dishes.

 

**One year and four months**  
“Hey.”

“Hmm?” Jonghyun looks lazily away from the stars and down at Taemin’s head in his lap. Taemin looks back up at him, face quiet and serious. The dim light of the back porch lamp glows in his eyes as he lifts a hand to touch soft fingertips to Jonghyun’s cheek. He brushes his fingers over Jonghyun’s skin, curling them to rest his knuckles against his cheek and rub his thumb over his cheekbone. Jonghyun watches him bite his lip before he takes a deep breath. He hesitates on that one and lets it out with a heavy exhale, but with the next breath, he speaks.

“I really like you a lot,” he whispers. Oh. Jonghyun smiles, lifting his own hand to brush Taemin’s bangs out of his face.

“Thanks,” he says. “I like you too.” Love, more like, but Taemin gets wiggly around the L word sometimes and he thinks it’s cuter to just say “like” anyway. Taemin opens his mouth again, but just takes another deep breath and turns to nuzzle into Jonghyun’s stomach. Jonghyun exhales quietly in amusement, sifting his fingers into Taemin’s hair and rubbing little circles into his scalp. He really is flattered. It’s not easy for Taemin to admit things, especially in such a sincere way. He must be feeling extra close out here on his porch bench, under the dusk stars and warm summer breeze.

Soon, Taemin lifts his face from Jonghyun’s stomach. He follows that by sitting up fully with a little grunt.

“I have to pee,” he mumbles, and pushes his hair out of his face before standing up and slipping inside. Jonghyun watches him go fondly. What a babe. He loves the nights he spends here with Taemin instead of at his flat with his other roommates. He rests his arms over the back of the bench, watching an airplane blink across the darkening sky. He feels good.

Just as he starting to think that Taemin’s trip to pee is taking longer than it should, the back door opens again. Very clumsily. He turns at the stumbling noises, the awkward shuffling, the solid thunk and hissed _“ow, fuck,”_  that follows. He raises his brows, amused at Taemin’s struggles, before he furrows them, confused at what he has in his hands as he steps in front of Jonghyun. It’s a bottle of wine and two glasses, and when Jonghyun lifts his eyes to Taemin’s face, he’s blinking up a storm with his lip between his teeth.

“Tae--”

“I want to share my feelings with you,” Taemin says, loudly and so fast that Jonghyun almost doesn’t understand. He thrusts out the wine bottle and holds it under Jonghyun’s nose. Jonghyun glances at the custom label for just a second before he he looks back at Taemin with wide eyes. This is very different and very strange and very sudden. Sudden enough that the first thing that comes out of Jonghyun’s mouth isn't what he meant to say at all.

“Taemin, have you made everything that could possibly relate to that bottle of wine into a shitty joke metaphor?”

“Yeah,” is Taemin’s immediate reply. “This way I can pretend like it’s not fucking terrifying.” His voice breaks into a whisper halfway through; Jonghyun takes the bottle gently before his shaky hands drop it. The weight of Taemin’s words settle over him like a blanket and he stares at the wine, twisting the glass in his hands. Wow. Okay. This is huge. He knows it is.

“Okay, um,” he says. “I’m really, _really_ thankful that you trust me enough for this, but.” He grimaces at the wine and holds it back out. “Wine always makes me really nauseous,” he mumbles. He doesn’t want to drink any if he has to listen and support Taemin.

“Oh!” Taemin says. He snatches the bottle out of Jonghyun’s hand quickly, mouth trembling between a half smile and an anxious twist. “Because my feelings are gross, ha ha, get it?” he asks. Jonghyun sighs shortly.

“Tae--”

“I have tequila,” Taemin says. “Or, or scotch, or--rum, I could make you a daiquiri. Or you could just. Not drink at all, like, that’s fine too. Or--”  
  
“I’d like a daiquiri, yeah,” Jonghyun says, cutting Taemin’s rambling off as gently as possible. Daiquiris are always good to him. Taemin nods, looking like a bobblehead, and fumbles with the glasses in his hands as he shuffles back to the door.

“Okay, one daiquiri, coming up,” he says. “Just you wait. Fresh strawberries, fresh ice. All that shit. I got it.” He almost drops a wine glass trying to grab the handle of the screen door. Jonghyun shifts more towards the end of the bench worriedly, reaching a hand out in an offer.

“Do you want me to help you stall?” he asks. He knows that’s what Taemin is doing. Taemin’s fingers slip on the doorknob.

“No I’m good thanks,” he says loudly and quickly, and lurches back inside without another word. Jonghyun stares at the screen door as it slowly swings shut. Well, all right then. He lets a slow breath out and looks back out at the stars. This isn’t how he was expecting the night to go at all. Still, this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, judging by how badly Taemin looked like he wanted to back out of it during that whole exchange. He’d much rather have this experience now when he’s not completely prepared than never. He closes his eyes and thinks, pulls all the little details about what calms Taemin that he’s gathered through their time together. He’ll need them.

After several audible clatters and crashes from inside (Jonghyun refrains from launching himself in there to check on Taemin only because he can squint at him through the window and verify that he’s okay), Taemin shuffles back outside. The wine glasses are gone, replaced with two of his bigger plastic cups. His hand shakes when he hands Jonghyun his daiquiri.

“I, um,” he says. “I put, like. The tiniest little drop of wine. In that. Like, literally one drop. Because, like--”

“So I can have your feelings?” Jonghyun asks, grinning just playfully enough without crossing into dismissive territory. Taemin’s lip twitches up just once as he nods. He takes a sip of his wine through a bendy straw and sits next to Jonghyun. His cup is almost full, but Jonghyun strongly suspects that he already took a few panic gulps straight from the bottle before he came back out here. He takes a drink of his own daiquiri. It’s super sweet; Taemin must have forgotten to tone down the sugar like he usually does when he makes Jonghyun things. Jonghyun drinks more anyway and slips one hand over the back of the bench behind Taemin. Not touching, but close enough to be a comforting presence and an easy movement for if Taemin actually wants to touch.

“I,” Taemin starts, and then takes a shaky breath. He’s staring determinedly at the stone of the porch and clutching his cup tightly in both hands. “I’ve wanted, to, like. Do this, for a while, but, like.” He shrugs wildly with a little shake of his head and sips again through his straw. Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees. His hair falls around his face but he doesn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m not. I don’t. Like, It’s so--and you’re--but I’m just. And I can’t--and I’m not sure, like. You know?”

“Mmhmm,” Jonghyun hums quietly. He figured it was something like that. Taemin glances quickly at him before back to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “There’s just--so much.” He whispers that, breathes it into his cup. “And I don’t… know where to start.” He rests his forehead on the rim of his cup and closes his eyes. Jonghyun watches him, chewing on the end of his straw. He takes another sip of his drink.

“Pick somewhere,” he says softly. “Anywhere,” he adds when Taemin’s cheeks hollow like he’s biting the insides of them. “I’ll listen.”

Taemin stays silent for a long, long moment. Then, he takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and starts talking.

 

**One year, four months, and one day**  
Jonghyun wakes up slowly, and unhappily, squinting at the sun that’s streaming through the window and directly into his eyes. Ugh. He always forgets about Taemin’s trash bed placement. Dropping his arm over his eyes, he sighs and tries to melt back into the pillows even though he knows that it’s useless. He can never get back to sleep once he’s woken up.

With his other arm, he fumbles around for the blankets to pull up and over him. His endeavor gets him that, but it also gets him a sleepy grumble and movement against his chest. He pauses, then remembers, and then breathes in deeply, shifting so he can pull Taemin closer to him and nuzzle his hair. Taemin grumbles again and he smirks, but lets go easily when he pushes weakly against his skin.

Taemin spreads out on his back and Jonghyun watches through half-opened eyes as his face twists into a cute little sleepy scrunch against the sun.

“Mmgh,” Taemin says. A soft laugh falls from Jonghyun’s lips. Same.

“You feeling okay?” he asks. Last night was a doozy of a night. Taemin takes some deep, tired breaths before he nods.

“Sure,” he mumbles. He pauses, then grabs weakly at a pillow and tugs it over his face. “That... all happened, right?” he asks, voice muffled. “The talking, and…. Everything?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun hums. The talking, the crying, the desperate makeout, the tipsy wiggling into bed, the Taemin waking Jonghyun up at two in the morning by taking off his clothes in his sleep because he forgot to when he was awake. It was a whole thing.

“Okay,” Taemin says. “Just making sure.” He pulls the pillow off and rolls on top of Jonghyun instead, pushing him to lie on his back and resting on his chest. “I half thought I dreamed it all,” he says quietly. Jonghyun snorts.

“Nope,” he says. He tilts Taemin’s chin up so he can fix his hair. “A hundred percent real.” Taemin has the almost empty wine bottle on the mantle to prove it. Taemin hums again, pulls away from Jonghyun’s hand so he can nuzzle his neck and breathe deep.

“Okay,” he whispers, and then props himself up on his elbows. He hovers over Jonghyun, sleepy and tired, and Jonghyun reaches up to poke his soft little cheek. Taemin puffs his cheek up, then leans down to press their mouths together.

Oh. Jonghyun smiles into the kiss. This is nice. Usually it’s him that asks permission and then kisses Taemin as chastely as possible until Taemin feels like his touch repulsion is larger than what he’s willing to indulge Jonghyun in. Being kissed first for once is a welcome change--until he catches just a whiff, just a taste, of Taemin’s breath.

“Ugh. Oh my god. Dude.” Jonghyun turns away from the kiss, nose scrunching in protest. “You have the worst alcohol breath.” A mix between stale wine and his regular morning breath. Taemin breathes more over Jonghyun’s face in the form of a laugh, one that has him ducking his head and shifting to sit up against the pillows.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “My feelings always leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”

Taemin only laughs harder when Jonghyun throws a pillow at his face.

  
  
**Three and a half years**  
“Okay, Taemin….” Jonghyun says, staring at Taemin as he rifles through the ring pops in the candy aisle. “Tell me you do not actually buy a green ring pop every week.” How the fuck did he never notice this before.

“Of course not,” Taemin mumbles. He grabs one and holds it up with a little smirk. “Sometimes I buy the pink ones.” He tosses it into the cart and grabs another one, pressing that into Jonghyun’s hand as he pushes the cart down the aisle. “Thanks for half-ro-half-plato marrying and moving in with me for government benefits, by the way,” he adds. Jonghyun looks at the ring pop in his hand with a sigh. At least it’s blue. Taemin remembered his favorite. When he looks up to follow, Taemin is grinning at him over his shoulder. “Get it?” he asks, eyes flicking between the candy and Jonghyun. “A ring pop, like--”

“Yes, Taemin, I get it,” Jonghyun sighs. He smiles in spite of himself as he tosses it into the cart as well. This is one heck of a first shopping trip together. When they reach the end of the candy aisle, he tugs Taemin left to the vitamin aisle. He needs his supplements.

They roll through the store, each of them adding their usual items to the cart. Jonghyun watches it fill up slowly, and between Taemin’s shitty jokes and their serious debates between a twenty-four or thirty-six pack of toilet paper, Jonghyun feels kind of fond of it all. It’s much fuller than his regular solo cart because of all of Taemin’s stuff, but it’s not twice as full either. Some of their stuff is the same stuff. The mix of it all makes him smile. It’s a physical representation of them right now: bigger and different, but still together and similar. He likes it.

“I could write a song about this,” he realizes out loud. He totally could. He already has fifty songs half-done and even more as just ideas in the back of his head, but this could be one too. A badly muffled snort brings his attention back up, and he pouts at Taemin’s amused little grin. “What?” he whines. Things inspire him. It’s not his fault.

“Anyway,” Taemin says. Jonghyun humphs at his dismissal and follows him grumpily towards the registers. “Speaking of feelings,” Taemin mumbles, and stops the cart in the alcohol section. “Mine are on sale.” This time Jonghyun snorts as Taemin reaches onto the display rack of white wine and grabs two bottles with a smug little grin. He sighs as Taemin places them into the cart.

“Tae,” he says, leaning his elbow on the edge of the cart. “Please tell me you don’t buy shitty clearance wine to represent your feelings.” A weekly ring pop is one thing, but this is just ridiculous.

“Of course I do,” Taemin says anyway, shrugs it out like it should be obvious. “I’m not gonna blow money on _good_ wine if all I'm gonna do is cry over it and feel sorry for myself.”

“Yeah, but,” Jonghyun says. “Your feelings are worth more than--” he squints at the price tag of the shelf--“eight dollars a bottle, holy shit.” He can’t believe that Taemin just gets the shittiest wine possible for this.

“Listen,” Taemin says, and pokes his cheek as he pushes the cart forward again with the shitty wine in tow. “They’re _my_ feelings and if I say they’re worth less than thirty dollars a year, then that’s what they’re worth.” He keeps going so Jonghyun has no choice but to follow him to the register. “Besides,” Taemin says as he starts unloading the cart onto the belt. “I have actual good alcohol for when I wanna get the good kind of drunk. Like, that blackberry tequila? _Nice._ ”

“I mean,” Jonghyun mumbles. “True.” He helps Taemin lift everything onto the belt and throws a pack of gum on there as well. “I still think your feelings are worth more, though.”

“Thanks,” Taemin hums. “Why don’t you write a song about it?”

He’s smirking as he dodges the flick Jonghyun aims for his nose, but Jonghyun forgives him easily with a pat on the butt. Maybe he will.


End file.
